


Shriveled Up

by TheTyphonSerpent



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Body Horror, Canon Dialogue, Gore, M/M, Mourning, canon character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 00:29:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16843510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTyphonSerpent/pseuds/TheTyphonSerpent
Summary: Anders reflects on Leandra's death and makes a feeble attempt at comforting Hawke.





	Shriveled Up

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a tumblr prompt! Find me on tumblr and send me more prompts: typhonserpent.tumblr.com

Anders was standing on the precipice of disaster.

Flickering orange light was pouring out of Garret’s bedroom door. He was standing one step away from the door frame, just out of sight, chewing on his own tongue. 

It had taken them hours to gather the body, trying their best to identify what parts had belonged to Leandra. The sweet woman seemed to take every one of her son’s friends in as her own children. He’d managed to identify her hand from a mole he’d seen once when he was over for dinner. Varric had managed to find her legs. Her other arm was several feet away amidst the body parts. 

It went without saying that Garret shouldn’t have had to gather them himself. He had to go home and tell Gamlen what had happen, get the affairs in order, write a letter to the mortician. Not to mention he deserved the time alone.

Still, he felt filthy. Anders had scrubbed his hands until his skin was raw and still felt it crawling even now. Her milky, unseeing eyes, her cheeks bloated with rot, skin coming apart at the seams where she’d been stitched onto the parts of other women. Leaving Garret alone to deal with all that just didn’t seem right.

So here he was, bile at the back of his throat, intestines twisted, knots in his back, and completely clueless as to what to say. Justice wanted to tear into the Viacount’s Keep, demand answers for why the city guard was not doing their job and why innocent women had been slaughtered.

In the end, that wouldn’t help Garret. Garret needed someone. _Anyone._ And it may as well be Anders.

He stepped through the door.

Garret was sitting disturbingly still, staring blankly for the split second before he noticed Anders, and even then only bothering to turn his head to identify who had entered.

Anders blurted and immediately hated himself for it, “I know nothing I say will change it, I just … I’m sorry.“

What an idiot.

He continued, approaching the bed, “You were lucky to have her as long as you did. When the pain fades, that’s what will matter.”

He looked completely numb. “I should have tried harder.”

“She wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“You don’t know my mother.”

“No … and I’m sorry I never will.”

Anders took a seat beside Garret on the bed, only to watch the mourning man’s eyes fade out of focus again. 

Wrapping an arm around Garret, he pulled him into an embrace, leaning back against the pillows. He was like clay in Ander’s hands, molding to whatever position he was forced into. “Whatever you need, I’m here for you.” He said, stroking Garret’s hair with his thumb, “But, please, don’t shut down like this. Take it from me, it doesn’t help.”

Face buried in Anders’ shirt, Garret heaved a sigh, and let his eyes shut. With a burst of panic, Anders wondered if any of the rotten scent had clung to his clothes, but if there was, Garret didn’t react. He didn’t so much as peep.

“Aren’t you sad?” Anders asked.

“Of course I’m sad.”

“Then why aren’t you crying?”

“I already cried for 8 hours, any more and I’ll shrivel up.”


End file.
